When my wife and I had been married for a handful of years we went to marriage counseling. We were in a bit of a funk and having an unbiased, outsider hear our stories and give us feedback was an opportunity we thought couldn't hurt. We love each other and while I may not have been the most willing participant at first, it provided one of those moments that sticks with you forever. The counselor asked each of us whom the most important person or people in our lives were. Without hesitation, I answered, "my kids." Without hesitation of her own she said, "Wrong. It's your spouse sitting next to you." I was pissed. Who is she to tell me who or what the most important things in my life are and what takes priority. At that point, I wasn't a fully engaged listener, but I did hear her mention something along the lines of what do I plan to do when the girls are gone and what am I doing, today, to strengthen and deepen the bond between my wife and myself?
You know those moments when you know what you are being told is correct, you know the person telling you is coming from a place of love or neutrality, but you just don't want to admit it to yourself? That is where I was but it didn't last too long. The counselor was right. I knew it and over the next few months, years, and continuing to this day, I know I have to put the same or more amount of effort into my marriage as I do being a Dad.
This is how my brain works though. I love my wife and plan on working on that relationship until we die but what the counselor also illustrated, quite clearly, is that eventually my girls will be gone and won't need me. The request for shoes to be tied, to sit on my lap while we watch Supergirl, to make pancakes in the morning or ice cream at night will be gone. The requests are already dwindling. That is why I have to take stock of things like the Daddy Daughter Dance. A chance to make memories that I will cherish forever. I'm sure the girls will remember moments from the dances over the years but I remember the minutiae. Like the matching black and white corsage with little polka dots on the ribbon. Or how taken aback I was when they came downstairs wearing makeup. How they still hold my hand when we walk in the parking lot but as soon as they see their friends they are gone. I was the same, so were you.
To that counselor I would like to say thank you for telling me the truth, even when I didn't want to hear it.
You know those moments when you know what you are being told is correct, you know the person telling you is coming from a place of love or neutrality, but you just don't want to admit it to yourself? That is where I was but it didn't last too long. The counselor was right. I knew it and over the next few months, years, and continuing to this day, I know I have to put the same or more amount of effort into my marriage as I do being a Dad.
This is how my brain works though. I love my wife and plan on working on that relationship until we die but what the counselor also illustrated, quite clearly, is that eventually my girls will be gone and won't need me. The request for shoes to be tied, to sit on my lap while we watch Supergirl, to make pancakes in the morning or ice cream at night will be gone. The requests are already dwindling. That is why I have to take stock of things like the Daddy Daughter Dance. A chance to make memories that I will cherish forever. I'm sure the girls will remember moments from the dances over the years but I remember the minutiae. Like the matching black and white corsage with little polka dots on the ribbon. Or how taken aback I was when they came downstairs wearing makeup. How they still hold my hand when we walk in the parking lot but as soon as they see their friends they are gone. I was the same, so were you.
To that counselor I would like to say thank you for telling me the truth, even when I didn't want to hear it.
